Goa Travelogues

The past year hasn’t been kind. Ups and downs -- the downs outscoring the ups. Made some decisions, I regret even before the consequences have come to surface. I wait for the results and the consequences. The stress and the anxiety of it make my days very difficult to get by.
When my boy friend offered Goa, I decided to take it up.
I think my holiday started the day I decided to go to Goa.

Day 1: In the train.
I am in the train and I know I have over packed. My fellow commuters are an interesting bunch - An uncle –nephew duo from Bombay, a Swede from Ireland and an extremely pious gentleman from Sinhudurg.
The journey is long. I can never read on a train. But the lively bunch around me engages in interesting discussion, and I find my time passing well. The old gentleman (the uncle) knows Goa well and suggests some interesting places to go—most are Hindu temples. . The Swede is somewhat lost, it is his first time in India and he hasn’t planned his stay here very well. So we all give our two cents each on where to go and what to do. He is patient.
We were travelling by AC 3 tier, Mandowi Express, which starts from Dadar, Mumbai at 7:15 am.
If one plans ahead in time, and wants to travel by train –the night train Konkan Kanya is the best option. It is an overnight journey that one can sleep through and reach Goa the next morning, with the whole day in front of them. If the holiday budget is not too stretched, or if one can plan ahead in time, flights too are a good way to get to Goa.I personally would never recommend the bus. It is torturous, uncomfortable, and long and can really mess up your otherwise great holiday.
We get off at Mudgaon station, the last stop, since we had decided to spend our time only in South Goa.

Day 1: The cab ride.
The 650 rupees cab ride was uneventful, till a certain point. Our cab driver seemed rather scared of driving through the dark and lonely jungle road. He admonished us for not taking the train which reaches Goa in the morning. He whined about the dark roads, late hour (it was 8 pm) and the long distance. He loudly wondered why we chose to stay in an isolated beach unheard of.
Our driver finally lost all cool, when we hit the jungle track which lead to our heavenly dwelling on kola beach. The access road to Blue Lagoon Resort is somewhat tedious, dangerous and in the dark even more ominous. Our driver finally abandoned us in the middle of nowhere and turned back. He swore at the resort people, who had come to lead the way on their bikes, cursed us for wanting to live in such a place and drove away in a huff. His panic was comical. But I wasn’t laughing anymore, when the last light left with the taxi. We were abandoned on top of a hill with our luggage, in midst of heavy under growth, unmarked rutted jungle path, no lights and a bunch of scruffy youngsters on bikes.
We finally reached the resort half trekking and half three on a bike. I held on tight to my two bags (never carry more than a single bag to Goa…never) , the bumps, jerk, the loud whirring added much to my fears.
I was quite scared; I kept imagining a leopard to jump up on to the path in front of us. The jungle around was dense and dark, the road broken, I could barely make out the road and made a mental decision not to traverse this path at night. The evening air was cool, the sky was clear, shimmering with a million stars—a sight not common in the city and I could hear the waves—a gentle gurgle followed by a splash.
The sight that greeted me at the bottom of the hill was the sight I had longed for over a year, ever since my last trip to Goa, when we had chanced upon this little beach and the resort quite by accident.
It has taken me a year to get here, but I am finally here.
PS: These guys really don’t want to be found.

Elsa Diaries 4

I really miss Elsa. It’s been 2 years now. Life choices do keep me busy. I have so much to do, to decide, to understand and to choose. It is scary as every day I am made to realize the urgency of the decisions to be made. There’s always a flutter in my heart—I work, I study, I meet people, I fall in love, I fall out of love, friends depart, friends’ grow apart, new relationships are forged, domestic woes, living alone woes, maid and flat mate squabbles ,money, shopaholicism, loneliness, claustrophobia and the burning desire to do breakaway from mundane. Yes, Life does keep me busy.
But on the days that are the worst, when living gets overwhelming … I desperately look around to seek reprieve, and grieving for Elsa gives me a certain sense of relief. In a way I feel joyful. I go back into the past, to simpler times, I find myself reminiscing the times spent with her; the cuddling (she never cuddled much, hence they were precious), the chases, the games we played –hide and seek, our squabbles, her silly ball, I would steal, to peeve her , the companionship, and the walks. Ahh!!! The walks!!!! I shed tears, sometimes little, often buckets and then I go for a walk alone, I watch people, birds, dogs and cats , cars and buildings , I look away --- I stare at the sea, I stretch, I breathe and I sense calmness , I postpone life for a day and just feel.
Grieving for Elsa always helps…

Yer Yer Yer... Undone !!!

There’s my life, it’s only been 24 years, and yet I find myself wishing I get back a few of my past years (they are after all My Years) , even though I still have more than half of my eternity left. What is it about the past that makes us always want to go back to either change, relive or rectify??? I often ponder, sometimes lament but I don’t wish to unmeet a single person I’ve met.

And then there is the future. I am so scared to age and yet I can’t wait for things to fall in place, but when I walk down a street and see a woman with a child, I wince. And the fact most these women are fat gets to me even more. Two years back, I might have not even noticed the woman, and few years before I actually found babies cute.
It peeves me to realize that I consider marriage and babies a part of life’s plan.

And here I am with my life, which is mine, so precious, so eager and effervescent. I’ve seen and felt so much and you don’t know so much of it. I feel the need to tell you, to explain , relate stories, my experiences, my happiness, my sadness, it’s strange--- it saddens me that it doesn’t make a difference to you.

But pray we meet someday and you love me.

Clarifications!!! My info is correct and checked..;)

I went through numerous blogs , wiki page and other Baba related info sites, a lot of the information seems stunted, incorrect and conflicting. While writing the article , I found myself in a quandary , because much of the information even i had gathered about the saintly young sepoy was hearsay.

Hence I spoke to an old friend of my father's who commanded the Nathula Brigade few years back (mentioned in my blog), and all the stories, the facts and the lore have been confirmed from a man who spent 30 months there, carrying out the rituals mentioned.


:)....

Do Try this at Home ...

I cooked the other day, and it turned out exquisite, homely and extremely delicious.
And so easy to make. I’m proud of this meal.
Special thanks to Suveer, he really knows his ingredients.

This may seem like a lazy Blog post. It is.

I stepped out of my home by 12:30 pm and went shopping. The day looked unusually bright even from behind my dark glasses. I groaned my way to the market which is quite near my humble abode, but nevertheless tiresome to walk to on a sunny afternoon. As I walked up the slope past the bagel shop, I deflected, and considered lazing on the café sofa and gorging on a bacon or smoked salmon bagel. The patrons looked attractive enough. But I was resolute to cook a meal.
I lengthened my stride up the hilly hill, dodging the speeding cars up and down the narrow path. The flamboyant red blooming Gulmohar tree lifted my spirits, and the bright Cassia fistula made me all gay. I stopped and looked up at the colours around me, they were only a few trees, yet they seemed to cloud the gloom around.
I walked down the slope now towards the quaint Pali market.
The quaint Pali market isn’t old world at all, it may look like a small village market, but it sells everything. No wonder super markets don’t last very long in this area.
From a feisty vegetable vendor who amazed me with her collection of exotic food items –Avocados, Zucchini, exotic herbs like rosemary, thyme, basil, varieties of mushrooms, sprouts and so much more, I did not understand,
I purchased some humble and familiar vegetables.
1. Three packets of button mushrooms.
2. Ice berg lettuce –green and the red leaves.
3. Rocket leaves.
4. Two big round lemons (nimbu).
5. Broccoli.
6. A Packet a Baby Corn.

The mom and pop stores impressed me further by their collection of imported food items -- exotic chocolates, syrups, cereals, juices, jams, pasta, desserts, collection of cheese and so much more.
I purchased the following:
1. A small bottle of Figaro Olive oil
2. Mozzarella cheese (50 gms).
3. Slab of Parmesan cheese.
4. A packet of Salami and sausages.
5. Organic wheat pasta.
I was being indulgent and naïve, the salesman conned me. The simple
Semolina pasta, which costs so much less, can also be bought.
6. Oregano seasoning and chilly flakes.
Back home within an hour, my friend and me got to work. I wanted a minimum effort, minimum cost meal. Well the cost factor is a variable. On different days I feel differently about it.

Cheesy Baked mushrooms.
Ingredients: A packet of mushrooms, mozzarella cheese, olive oil, salt and oregano.
1. Wash the mushrooms properly; make sure you rid it of all dirt.
2. Pre heat the oven to about 190 degrees Celsius.
3. While the oven is pre heating, carefully remove the stumps of the mushrooms from the cavity. Don’t throw the stumps.
4. Grate a portion of mozzarella cheese; add salt to taste and a teaspoon of oregano.
5. Take a small quantity of olive oil in a bowl, and with fingers dipped in olive oil, stuff the mushroom cavities with the cheese-salt-oregano mixture.
6. Lace the tray with olive oil, and bake the mushrooms for about 20 minutes.

Salad:
Ingredients: Mushrooms, Ice berg lettuce (red and green), rocket leaves, oliveoil,
Balsamic vinegar.

1. Wash all the leaves properly. It is important you wash them at least 3-4 times.
2. Take a large deep salad bowl (or a patila); place all the leaves in it, you can add cherry or cut tomatoes, if you like tomatoes. I don’t.
3. Sautee a packet of mushrooms in olive oil (or shrimps) and put it in to the bowl.
4. Pour a generous quantity of olive oil into the bowl
5. Add a dash ok dash or three of balsamic vinegar and salt to taste, squeeze a whole lemon and little bit pepper.
6. Great a generous quantity of parmesan cheese into the salad bowl. Quantity depends on you. But more cheese, the better. Mix all the ingredients gently.
7. You can also add Kiri cheese cubes.

Balsamic vinegar happened to be in my fridge and I used it and it really enhanced the taste of the salad. Having a friend who knows ingredients really helps.

I prepared a simple Alio Olio pasta, this is my desi version and it tastes alright.
Pasta sauce:
1. Heat some oil in a pan, and cook 3-4 tablespoon of garlic paste. I bought the garlic paste from market. So much easier.
2. Cook the broccoli, mushrooms and baby corn, add chilly flakes, oregano, salt to taste and add some more finely chopped garlic cloves,4-5 cloves would do good (I love garlic flavour).
3. Let it cook for a while. I really don’t know how long, I just sweat it out in the kitchen, and keep tasting to see if it tastes alright.
Some people find Alio Olio extremely bland, you can add a little quantity of tomato puree to zing it.
4. You can add salami, cut up sausages or even boiled and fried chicken.
5. The pasta is easy to cook. Boil some pasta in water for 8 minutes. Add salt before boiling.
6. Drain the water completely, take another container, heat some butter, slightly burn the butter, toss the pasta in it and then the sauce. Pasta is ready.
Well a meal is ready.
Baked mushrooms, Salad (it tastes like gorgonzola salad) and Pasta.
Have the baked mushrooms and salad as starters along with toasted bread with butter. The combination is extremely delicious.

If pasta feels too staid or passé, here is an alternative:
Baked Lemony Fish:
Ingredients: Fish (I generally use Rawas or Salmon) , juicy lemon, salt, pepper and paprika.
1. In a bowl, squeeze lemon to get a decent quantity of lemon juice.
2. To it add, salt and pepper, and small quantity of paprika (optional).
3. Poke the fish with a fork and marinate the fish ( Rawas or salmon taste wonderful) for at least 3-4 hours.
4. Bake it.
You can do the same with chicken.


Bon appetite!!

My Extraordinary Love

Love is extraordinary; it has the power to destroy and to redeem.
I think I won’t really ever understand true love. My being on this planet has become so abortive and selfish that I have begun to gauge everything I do in those terms. I do have visions of great love, of probable love; I might be in love too as I write this, but unfortunately I realize I will never go down the path of greatness in love.
I’m selfish, I deceive, I measure and I demand. I rationalize that if one loves, one needs to give... The other person that is. If one loves one needs to be big …the other person that is. Success is imperative, for the other person that is. There is no room to make mistakes, no room for hurt, no room for doubt and one’s own shortcomings, no room for the ‘me’ first… of the other person that is.
I receive, I receive I receive. Does this scare me, no, not really… I’m shielded by the fallacy that I am a victim, and like the terror makers of the world, I feel I have the cause, the right and the luxury.
And if I do find this love...it will be extraordinary…. My extraordinary love.
Impossible, bizarre … no it’s the premise of a modern day tragedy. How Homer glorified hero worship, justifying the need and cause of war, I wish to glorify My Extraordinary Love. Some people are made to fight, and some are made to be loved… I am made to be LOVED. I don’t seek to be a modern day Aphrodite; my endeavor is much more humble, real and practical ... Just one person and My extraordinary love.

Sad Demise of the Coffee Paper Cup

If you think I am overreacting, check out the folowing link: Sad Demise To Coffee Paper Cup

Let me know if its atleast worth a thought.
I hope this trend doesn't catch on.

Elsa Diaries 3

Before Elsa came into our lives, we three were quite indifferent to the existence of dogs. We neither loved them, nor did anything to harm them. After Elsa, our perception and sentiments underwent an overhaul. We fell in love with dogs, all kinds, big small, pets and pariah.
In Kalina, a bitch gave birth to three extremely cute puppies, two females and one male in the woods behind my house. Our neighbors’ daughter started taking care of them, but as you know how things like this go, after couple of weeks, when the pups started growing up, the mother (our neighbor that is) became rather impatient, and started discouraging the daughter from engaging the dogs too much.The daughter soon lost interest. The puppies would often stray into our back yard, and I would love playing with them. Elsa of course did not like them at all. She had an aversion to the folks from the canine family, all of them unfortunately.

Laali, Kaali and Faltu,I really don’t know who came up with the names, though my mother did have a knack for keeping uncanny and rather inane names.

Laali was a really beautiful bitch, a good looking one, she had very soft features and her coat was a yielding reddish brown. She was everyone’s darling, everyone of course comprised a small number of people.
Kaali was a black colored bitch and my favorite. She wasn’t very friendly, very wary of humans and always seemed troubled.
When she was a puppy, she’d been hit by a stick, luckily even though it was a bad hit, she survived and was perfectly fine within days. But I surmise she developed a sense of doubt and fear coupled with the realization that she was dependent on humans, so I presume this always kept her anxious and apprehensive. It took me a long time to befriend her; she would only come to me and my mother.
I think the regular feeding of the puppies started after Kaali was injured, she was suffering right in my backyard, and she was extremely cute.
Faltu, this bugger was a dirty brown, brusque fellow, extremely sociable and I think he spent a major part of his life trying to convince my family and couple of others to adopt him. I wish we had, Elsa of course would have been furious.
All three never grew too big, they were miniatures and I guess it increased their cute factor.

In matter of months, my family became the primary caretakers of the puppies. And the 4 years that we did, were extremely eventful, joyous and quite crazy.


---
It would be quite a task in containing Elsa, if she was out venturing in the garden, and the puppies would stray in too. She would bark wildly, chase them, and our entire garden would echo of frantic yelps and incessant barks. Elsa would chase them all over the garden, uprooting flower beds, trampling the vegetable beds. My mother use to occasionally leave out red chilies, raw mangoes and spices to dry out in the sun, they used to be placed on a bed sheet on the ground, and Elsa would run over them, ruining it all. But Elsa never hurt Laali, Kaali and Faltu.
And even though the chases often got difficult to handle, I remember we use to never be angry, it would always end in laughter, hugging all the dogs, providing them reassurance and solace. Like little children fighting in a park and parents getting involved. The analogy here is definitely open to debate. But that is how it was for me when I was kid.
I often replay the chases in my mind, the puppies would be playing in our back garden, I had a huge garden, well maintained and cared for. Suddenly Elsa would come out of nowhere, all of us would get mobilized, Munnu bhaiya,our gardener , my father if he was around, other helpers and me , running all over the garden, yelling out Elsa’s name with my mother rooted at a spot, not moving a muscle giving a running commentary, oh she’s gone there, chase her chase her, someone just pick up Kaali , Laali’s stuck in the hedge, get her, Is that Faltu running behind Elsa, get him get him, he’s such a silly dog and so on and so forth. The meal after these particular chases were indeed entertaining with each of us relating a different part, and Elsa sitting either at my feet or on the sofa, aware that we were discussing her exploits.